


What Makes You Special

by SnowyCrocus



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Ice Bros - Freeform, Panic Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyCrocus/pseuds/SnowyCrocus
Summary: Wedding jitters have hit their peak…for Kristoff. Luckily there’s someone who’s dealt with similar insecurities.
Relationships: Elsa & Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	What Makes You Special

_It’s too hot._

Fingers are pulling at him everywhere. Tying his necktie. Buttoning his suit. He jumps when someone roughly tucks a handkerchief into his breast pocket.

The jacket is too constricting on his broad shoulders, the fabric rough and tight against his throat. He can’t breathe.

_Shit._ He can’t _die_ on his wedding day!

He tries to say the words but they won’t come out. Maids continue their fussing – tucking, buttoning, touching. He can’t think straight. He feels his palms slick with sweat and struggles once more to breathe through an airway that seems to have dramatically narrowed.

“I…” his head is swimming. Someone touches his head and starts working on his hair.

“Everyone _OUT_!” The words burst out from him, booming.

The room stills, everyone startled, Kristoff himself included. He hadn’t meant to be so loud.

But they all scatter immediately, leaving Kristoff alone with his half-done tie and racing thoughts.

He has no clue about being a king, let alone a husband. Who is he, what has he ever done, to deserve a crown on his head and the most beautiful, funny, smart, compassionate woman by his side? For the rest of his life, at that!

Anna….she’s perfect. She knows how to meet people, how to talk to them. She knows history, and how to come to agreements with people, and how to dance. She always knows how to dress for an occasion and which fork and spoon to use at dinner. And which glass.

But even more importantly, she knows _him._ How to make him feel better when he’s had a rough day. How to get him to smile, to laugh. How he likes his coffee and what kind of beer he likes. She knows when to hold his hand and she knows when he needs something stronger. She knows how to make him feel _good_ and _right._

The thoughts trickle in like a leak from the ceiling, drip by drip. Did he somehow trick her into thinking he was someone he isn’t? What if he’s not a good King? What if he can’t keep her happy? What if he can’t… _satisfy_ her in the other ways she might need?

This next step…it comes with lots of big changes. No more sleeping on hay. No more going on extended ice harvesting trips. He’ll have to learn how to become an _entirely different person_.

He doesn’t know what’s happening to him. Why can’t he _breathe?!_

He rips off the suit jacket and flings it across the room but it doesn’t help. He grasps his tie, desperately trying to undo the tight knot, but he just ends up with trembling, tangled fingers and a tight throat.

His hands clench into shaking fists and his vision goes blurry.

He’s _scared._

Should he call for help? He doesn’t want to seem pathetic or unsure, he’s going to be _King_ , goddamnit, but he feels like he’s dying.

There’s some kind of noise coming from somewhere, but Kristoff’s head is spinning and he can’t make sense of it, let alone focus on something else other than his breathing right now. He staggers over to one of the settees and falls unceremoniously onto it, burying his dizzy head in his trembling hands.

Suddenly, there are cool hands prying his own off his face. His feels a soft brush of fingers against his throat and the strangling tie falls to his feet. The same cool hand cups his cheek to bring up his gaze before taking his hands in their own.

_“…off? Kristoff?”_ Elsa’s low voice comes gently, like she’s trying to not spook him. “Hey,” she says, a tiny, gentle smile on her lips when his gaze finally meets hers. Only the little furrow between her brows shows she’s concerned.

Kristoff wants to respond but finds he can’t. His lips part but the air won’t come to help him make the words. His gaze locks onto her and his fingers grasp hers like a lifeline.

“It’s alright,” she says gently. Her thumb makes little circles on the side of his hand. “Just breathe through it. I’ve got you.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in through her nose, then slowly, gently, releases it through pursed lips. Kristoff watches her and tries to do the same.

Slowly, bit by bit, his mind clears and his hands stop shaking. His chest loosens and he feels like he can breathe once more. It’s not great, but – better.

“There he is,” Elsa says playfully when Kristoff appears to have recovered. “Want to talk about it?” She cocks her head to the side.

“What…what are you doing here?” Kristoff decides on instead. Elsa had been staying in the Arendelle Castle about a full week now, helping with preparations for the joint wedding and his coronation. She had seemed a bit unnerved as a result of her extended stay; just yesterday she had complained to him how she had forgotten how it felt to be watched and examined by _everybody_.

“Oh, a little bird told me about your outburst.” She laughs lightly at his dismayed expression. “Don’t worry. It happens to all of us. It’s a little too much to take, sometimes, all the staff. I thought I would just stop by before the big event.”

“Good thing you did,” Kristoff admits with a shake of his head. His breath comes easily now, but now he’s cold from his sweating episode. “I don’t…I don’t know what happened. It was all just…too much, suddenly."

Elsa nods knowingly, her expression falling and fingers tightening around his own.

“Is this... how you used to feel?” Kristoff asks, gently. He remembers Elsa’s hands clenched by her chest, temperatures dropping and snowflakes pulsing in time to her heartbeat. He remembers her gasps for air and the sad look Anna got when her sister retreated for a time. But it had been a while since the last time- at least, from what he had seen.

“And still do, sometimes…” Elsa trails off, sadness tainting her blue eyes. But it doesn’t seem to run as deeply as it used to. “But I know better, now, and can usually get myself out of it.”

“How? I feel like I won’t be good enough,” Kristoff admits, suddenly emboldened. Elsa’s always been a good listener and he could really use an ear right now.

“I’m just a guy who grew up sleeping on hay and talking to a reindeer,” Kristoff starts. Elsa grins at that but Kristoff doesn’t see the humor. “ _You_ had to teach me to read – I don’t know Arendelle’s history, or the names of the people that come to see us. I can’t help Anna with all the work she’s gonna have.” He runs his hand through his hair in exasperation. “I can’t help her develop treaties or settle disagreements. Hell, I _still_ can’t figure out which fork to use at formal dinners!” He pulls his hands out of Elsa’s to throw them in the air in exasperation.

He was _really_ hoping that Elsa would interrupt to soothe him by now. But she hasn’t said a word, just listens to his ranting. He blinks back the frustrated tears that have crept into his eyes.

“And I….it took me like ten times to even propose to her! I’m just awkward, and don’t know how to do these boyfriend things that I’m supposed to do. I’m not romantic-” he recalls the time when Ryder tried to help him create a “romantic” reindeer proposal – as if such a thing even existed – “and she deserves someone who can sweep her off her feet, who can dance with her, who can…who can make her happy and give her everything she deserves.”

He stops, resigned, and places his head firmly back in his hands to look down at his feet. His feet which are stuffed into the shiniest black dress shoes he has ever seen in his life.

“You know,” Elsa starts, rubbing a hand down his back in comfort, “for most of my life I thought the things that made me different were the problem.”

Though his face is still buried in his hands, Kristoff hears Elsa stand up and begin to pace the room by the tinkling _tip-tap_ of her ice heels.

“I thought my magic was a curse, that because of it I could only hurt other people. Whenever I thought about myself and what I had to offer, all I remembered and would think of were the terrible things I had done or could possibly do.”

The clinking of Elsa’s shoes stop, and the temperature slowly drops. Kristoff can feel and even _taste_ the tang of her magic growing in the air. He looks up.

“But Ahtohallan showed me that this thing that made me different was actually a gift. All my life I just wanted to be _normal,_ but it turned out that the thing I _hated_ about myself was actually…what made me _me._ ” Her arms reach out and spiral around each other, fingers dancing gracefully. Sweeping motions and delicate gestures make ice crystals blink to life. Kristoff doesn’t see how this is supposed to help him, but as always he remains entranced by Elsa’s magic.

The wind shifts and snow and ice take shape around the room. Her arms continue to wave and her footsteps seem calculated as the snow begins to take shape in ice figures, growing and shimmering.

Elsa’s hands close in the air and Kristoff gasps. He slowly walks around the room, entranced by what he sees.

By the picture window, there’s an ice figure of himself holding Anna, who’s hunched over in pain. He cringes as he recognizes their positions after Elsa accidentally struck Anna with her magic in the ice palace

Next to it, Kristoff has to hold back a chuckle when he sees the two of them in the outrageous costumes the trolls had dressed them in when they pronounced them married.

Then there’s an intricate statue of Sven carrying both Kristoff and a sickly-looking Anna on his back. Kristoff remembers the frozen weight of her in his arms as they raced back to the castle.

There’s their first kiss, tender and shy by the docks. The sparkling ice picks up the twinkle and excitement in their eyes _exactly._

He seems himself feeding Anna her very first spoonful of Flemmy stew. Spooning her medicine when she was sick in bed. Carrying her in the city when she sprained her ankle chasing a group of children. His comforting hug when they thought Elsa dead. His awkward and rushed proposal, her eager and ecstatic cry of _yes!_

“You make her so _happy_ , Kristoff,” Elsa’s delicate voice breaks him out of his reverie. She lets one of her fingers trail over her latest creation which Kristoff is standing in front of. “Don’t you see? Anna doesn’t need a prince or a king. She doesn’t care for status and she certainly doesn’t need the sappy romance found in those silly romance novels.”

Elsa slowly steps around from creation to creation. “While others run away from danger, you stay to protect her.” She shakes her head to rid herself of the memory, and strides over to the next figure. “You make her laugh,” she grins at their expressions. “You always look out for her. You bring out the best parts of her.”

She walks over to Kristoff and takes his hands in hers. “You show her _love,_ Kristoff. _True_ love. That’s why she loves you. Not because you’re a prince. Not because you can help her rule, and not because you know proper dinner etiquette. What makes you _you_ is why she loves you!”

The ice in the room radiates cold, his breath steaming in the air, but all that Kristoff feels is warmth at Elsa’s words and the memories sculpted in front of him.

“Now come on,” Elsa says. She helps him back into his jacket. Her fingers brush his throat where she does the buttons and slips back on his necktie. Her fingers settle in his hair, and a cool sensation comes over him as she puts bits of ice in to keep it _just_ right.

She starts to walk towards the door, turning around to face him at the last moment. “Are you ready?” She asks with a nervous but excited smile. “My sister is waiting for a _very_ special person.”

Kristoff takes a deep breath, his chest filling with warmth and a grin finally finding its spot on his face. He strides towards the door with confidence.

_Wait!_

The thought occurs to him right before he steps through the doorway. “Hey, Elsa?”

“Yes?”

Kristoff nods towards the last sculpture- a memory of the two of them hugging Anna sandwiched in the middle, her cheeks smooshed by Kristoff and Elsa’s faces on either side. “Can I keep this one? As a wedding present?”

Elsa laughs – a clear, happy note unobstructed by a hand over her mouth. She beams. “Of course.”


End file.
